Flirting with Failure
by Last Haven
Summary: Alfred just wanted to get one date with Arthur Kirkland before the semester ended. To do that he had to speak with him. Thus, he was set up for failure.


**A/N: Whenever I hit a posting milestone on my tumblr-usually every thousand posts or so-I offer to take requests. This one I did this morning for the prompt "USUK with awkward flirting"; beta-read by the lovely Ellarose C.**

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This was it. The big moment. Alfred had been prepping himself for this since he decided to finally just talk to Arthur Kirkland nearly a week ago. He had first noticed Arthur back in January when the English Literature major hurried in to their chemistry class twenty minutes late, muttering something about faulty car engines and annoying French roommates. Even if he hadn't been late, Alfred liked to think he would have noticed Arthur anyway; it had little to do with the massive eyebrows, the lean form, those green eyes, or even the British accent. (Although, Alfred would be lying if he didn't admit that they were amazing points of interest, too.)

What it did have to do with was that acerbic tongue with the witty retorts, the stubborn resistance against giving up in a debate, and those rare moments when Alfred could just catch a genuine smile on his face. And, perhaps, there was also something about imagining those surprisingly long legs wrapped around his waist.

Alfred had thought about—just thought! No long hours of brooding over or struggling here—starting up a conversation with the Brit, but something always came up or distracted him. No, Alfred F. Jones had certainly not chickened out on talking to his fellow student. He was just very busy, was all.

But not today; the class ended next week, and Alfred decided he wasn't going to let what could be his last chance slip away so easy. It seemed that whatever powers that be had smiled upon him because the day was gorgeous—a warm, bright day, breaking the recent trend of rain showers. A day like today wasn't meant to be spent inside, in Alfred's opinion, and it seemed that Arthur agreed. He found the Brit sitting at one of the tables outside the school's cafeteria, book in hand as he ate a sandwich. It was too perfect.

Now if only he could get his feet to move.

"Does it seem really hot to you?" he asked, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs. "It feels really hot to me. I'm kinda thirsty."

"You just chugged a two liter of Coke," Matt mumbled at his side. "I would worry more about pissing my pants than drinking more."

Alfred grimaced; now that he said that, Alfred could actually use a visit to the restroom.

"It will be all right, Alfred," Kiku promised at his side, camera clutched firmly in his grip. Alfred eyed the device warily, praying that it wouldn't happen to catch any embarrassing mishap if he failed. "Matthew and I will be here if you need us."

Matt pressed a hand to his shoulder gently. "You can't let this chance go, remember? You practiced for it all last night, rehearsing it even when I couldn't sleep for all your racket." Alfred pinned his brother with a glare. "Not that I needed it."

"Remember, Alfred—seize the day."

Alfred swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Yeah. I remember."

"Then you can do this," Kiku reassured him. "Hang in there." With no warning, his friend gave him a shove; he staggered forward, nearly falling. When he glanced back, his brother mouthed "_good luck"_ and waved him on while Kiku pumped his fist upward in his own expression of solidarity.

Stomach twisting, Alfred took a deep breath and turned his face forward again. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, musing to himself that he had never truly appreciated the solidness of the sidewalk until he found himself nearing Arthur's table.

The literature student was focused on his book, not even bothering to glance upward as Alfred stepped up to him. Perhaps he should have taken it to mean that this was a bad time to interrupt, but Kiku and Matthew's words rolled around in his ears. This was his last chance; he couldn't give up now. It would be a totally lame and un-heroic thing to do. So, he forced his jaw open and went with the first thing that came to mind.

"So, is that a book you're reading?"

His brain screeched to a halt. _Did I seriously just ask that? Oh God, that's a good start._

Arthur still didn't look up. "No, it's just a very long pamphlet."

"Oh," he replied numbly. And then his mouth kept right on going. "What's it about?"

The Brit didn't dignify that with a look, either, but merely sneered down at the pages below him. "How to avoid stupid conversations. I haven't gotten to the chapter yet that tells you how to shut out idiots before they-" Finally he looked, words slowing once they made eye contact. "…start talking."

_Well, Al, aren't you lucky he isn't a faster reader,_ some unhelpful part of his brain mused. He dutifully ignored it and scrambled for something else to say. "Hi!"

Fuck, he was doomed.

"Hello," Arthur replied after a beat, staring up at him with a blank expression.

_Say something, idiot! _"Good day for weather, huh?"

_Dear sweet baby Jesus on a pogo stick, where's a sniper to put me out of my misery when I need one?_

Perhaps Arthur was hard of hearing, because he merely nodded. "It's warm out."

Well, at least _there_ was something he could latch onto. "Oh, yeah, totally! At least the rain finally stopped. I mean—rain's nice, and maybe you'll get a neat rainbow, but I was getting sick and tired of dragging my umbrella with me all the time!"

Arthur managed a nod.

Seriously. Where was that damn sniper? _Just end this!_ Alfred coughed. "So, um, I don't know if you know who I am, but we have chem together."

"I know."

"Oh, well then. Um, you see, I've been watching you in class for a while and-" He paused, the words repeating in his head. He quickly blanched. "Wait, that came out wrong—what I meant was, ah, I watched you in class… Shit, that's not better."

Arthur slowly cocked his head to the side, his impressive eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Inside his pocket, his phone vibrated violently. On pure reflex, Alfred reached it and pulled it out, glancing down as he robotically accepted a text message. It was from Kiku and only had two words on it: **ABORT ABORT.**

Alfred scowled down and stuffed the phone back in his pants. So much for those two having his back. "You know what? Never mind—you seem busy, and I'm just wasting your time. So, ah—I'll just be leaving now."

"There you are!"

Head snapping upward so fast Alfred swore he heard something crack, he looked up to find a handsome man with shoulder length hair and a scraggly beard twining his way around tables. He grinned a toothy smirk at the two of them as he neared.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Arthur! Here," he began as he reached them, dragging a phone out of his expensive-looking jacket's pocket. "You left this behind again. Your forgetfulness is reaching new heights, _mon ami_."

Whether it the was words or the French, Arthur quickly snapped to attention, snatching his phone from the man's grasp. "Shut up, you twat—I didn't forget it!" He glanced up at Alfred for split second before quickly glancing away as he shoved his phone into his own pocket. "I just hadn't thought I would need it."

"I'm sure," the man smirked as he gaze flickered over to Alfred. "Ah hah, he's a cute one! A new friend of yours, Arthur?"

"We have the same chem class," Alfred answered just as Arthur shouted, "That's none of your business!"

The man beamed. "Really? Ah, it's so nice to hear that Arthur is talking to his fellow classmates for once—he usually scares off everyone with that bad attitude of his!"

"Francis!" Arthur hissed. "Thank you for bringing my phone to me; now kindly fuck off and go."

"See, what did I tell you?" Francis sighed. "If you think his attitude is bad in class, you should see how he is in private—I'm his roommate, and I swear he tries his best to make my life hell."

Alfred paused at 'roommate'. "So, you live together? You're friends, then?"

That earned a snort from the both of them, although Arthur quickly looked away when Alfred glanced at him.

"Non, non. Someone just had the bright idea to stick the two foreign exchange students in the same room," Francis explained with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "But how silly! I haven't properly introduced myself yet. I am Francis Bonnefoy. And you, monsieur, may I ask your name?"

Alfred smiled and shook the hand that was offered to him. "Alfred Jones. Nice to meetcha."

At the mention of his name, Francis lit up like someone flipped a switch. "Oh, so you are the illustrious Alfred that I have heard-"

Whatever Francis was going to say next, Alfred never got a chance to hear. Before he could finish, a book slammed spine first into his cheek. The Frenchman let out a cry as his hand flew to his cheek, babbling in rapid fire French while Arthur seethed. Alfred stared in confusion as the two began to argue in French, Francis whining while Arthur shouted and growled at him. The scene was so unexpected, so over the top, Alfred had to laugh.

Once his laughter subsided into snickers and sore sides, Alfred finally glanced up to find both Arthur and Francis staring at him, the Frenchman sporting a quickly blossoming bruise. "Heh, you two are a riot. You look like an old slapstick vaudeville act."

"How cruel to laugh at an injured man—you and Arthur are well suited to each other," Francis grumbled, rubbing at his face while Alfred felt his cheeks heat up.

The comment brought back the memory of the entirely botched attempt of conversation and Alfred found his palms beginning to sweat again.

"Well, um—right," he blustered before shoving his hands into his pockets to resist rubbing them against his pants. "I'll just, ah, leave you two to duke it out. See you in, um, class, Arthur."

He turned around and tried to make his escape; no good. No sooner had he turned around then Francis called out to him. "Wait! Do you like tea?"

Alfred paused and turned back, confusion plain in his face. "No?"

"Do you care for coffee then?" Francis's expression was determined while Arthur hissed _"What are you doing?"_

Alfred blinked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so he could turn back more. "Yeah, I do."

Francis grinned as much as his injured face would allow. "Well, are you free tonight?" Alfred nodded; Francis actually rubbed his hands together in glee. "Wonderful! Do you know that little café on the corner of Fifth and Ivy? Arthur will be there tonight, so you should come meet him there."

Alfred blinked and nodded on instinct. "Um. Okay… Nine-ish then?"

Francis nodded sagely. "Nine is perfect. He'll see you there."

"Excuse me, but what the actual fuck are you doing?" Arthur finally broke in. "I never told you I was free tonight."

"Pfft, it's not like you have anything better to do—besides wasting another beautiful Friday night hiding in our room again. You need to get out more." He turned back to Alfred and waved. "Don't worry, he'll be there."

Arthur blanched and avoided his gaze when Alfred looked at him, so he merely nodded and waved back before turning and finally managing his escape. Behind him, the pair of roommates was arguing again, but Alfred paid them no mind.

He had no idea what had just happen, but he was fairly sure he just got a date with the man he'd been ogling for the last five months. He nearly tripped over his own feet in shock and began to giggle to himself.

Well, perhaps someone really was smiling down on him after all.


End file.
